Packs and Promises
by Obstreperous Wookie
Summary: [AJ 2] After his self-imposed exile following the betrayal by his friends, AJ meets Robbie. Just in time, too. Something new is in Beacon Hills, and AJ needs all the help he can get if he wants to survive the winter.
1. Robbie

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Teen Wolf characters.

A/N: So this is a direct continuation of my story _Coyote Blue._ If you haven't read that, then this one might not make a whole lot of sense. Anyways, you can expect lots of AJ, Derek, Lydia, and Peter shenanigans, as well as my new character Robbie. Hope you enjoy. If anyone cares, I've graduated nursing school and now have a job, woot woot. That's why I now have time to write again. :)

* * *

 **ROBBIE**

Moving to Beacon Hills was supposed to be a fresh start. We could reinvent ourselves, according to my mother. No one would know about the crap that we had been through.

I want you to be happy, Mom had said. I want you to have a good life, to have friends, to have a new start. Beacon Hills will be that for us.

We'd been here for a little more than a month. So far I had one potential friend, a boringly normal life, and what was amounting to the same high school experience all over again.

I wasn't a big guy. I wasn't strong, fast, or good looking. I had crazy brown hair that curled out of control and an unremarkable face. I didn't even have a particular skill set that would make me cool or be my "thing."

I mean, I was smart, but in high school, smart doesn't get you very far. My mom always said that in college, people finally realize that hard work and brain power is what makes a successful person. But I wasn't in college. I was stuck in high school where the cool factor came from what you looked like, or what you drove, or what sport you played.

I was frighteningly unordinary and skinny to boot, which made me the perfect target for "having a little fun" according to Ryan and his group of thugs. Which is why I was stuck inside a stinky gym locker, and Ryan and his friends were outside of it, laughing.

"We'll come let you out tomorrow," Ryan said, slapping a hand against the locker door and making me jump in the cramped darkness.

Did these morons have any idea of the consequences of leaving someone in a locker overnight? If I didn't come home tonight, my mom was going to kill me. She would freak out, call the police, make them find me, and then kill me. But I couldn't say that without sounding like a mama's boy, so I said nothing at all.

The locker room door opened. I couldn't see anything aside from the little rays of light coming through the downward sloped slats, but my hopes shot up anyway, because I was thinking maybe it was someone who could help.

"Nothing to see here," Ryan said. A stretch of silence. "Beat it." I dearly hoped whoever was on the other side would realize that something was wrong and would to go get help.

"Robbie," someone said slowly. Oh my god. AJ. He'd somehow found me. AJ wouldn't just ignore me, maybe. He'd go get a teacher or something. He wasn't scared of Ryan.

"AJ," I called back, hating how panicked my voice sounded. Like clockwork, my stutter came back full force. "I'm in t-t-the locker-r."

"Oops," Ryan said, and I could perfectly picture the stupid smirk he probably had on his face as he said it.

"Oops is right, asshole," AJ said. Uh-oh. AJ sounded...AJ sounded mad. And I'd heard stories of what happened when AJ got mad.

"AJ," a girl murmured quietly. My face heated instantly. There was a girl in the boys locker room, and not only that, but she was witnessing my humiliation. God. No wonder I didn't have any friends.

"AJ?" I called out, tired and embarrassed. I was thinking maybe it was better if he just left me here, but I couldn't quite get the words out. There was another long stretch of silence. I wondered if they'd left.

"Fuck it," AJ snarled, and then the silence exploded into noise. Oh dear lord, what was happening?

After it was all said and done, the vice principal asked me the exact same thing. "So what happened?" he asked, resting his elbows on his desk and steepling his fingers. I sat in his office, trying to stop shaking.

It was harder to explain to the vice principal what had happened. I mean, it was one thing to have classmates see you get bullied. But then to turn around and explain to an adult that you weren't able to stand up for yourself and make people leave you alone...it's just worse, somehow.

Plus, I was probably going to get suspended. AJ too, and it would be all my fault.

Outside the office, in waiting area, Ryan and his friends were sitting as far away as they could get from AJ. AJ, for his part, seemed content to send them this kind of arctic, bored glare. Like if they messed with him again, he'd do more than just beat the crap out of them.

And he totally had, beat the crap out of them, I mean.

One second, I'd heard a girl's voice, telling him to stay calm. Then AJ had, in spectacular fashion, not stayed calm. There were grunts and blows and yelling, and all of a sudden someone was pounding on the locker and ripping the door off its hinges.

AJ had stood in front of me, tossing the mangled metal aside like it was nothing. He'd been breathing hard, and his face and hands had been a mess, but the four boys lying on the ground around him had been in worse shape.

The strangest thing had been his eyes, though. They had been kind of bright, in a crazed rage-y kind of way. AJ had stared at me for a long moment before his face went carefully blank, like he'd just dropped a wall in front of whatever he was feeling inside. His eyes had flicked back towards the girl standing in the doorway. She had, of course, been watching with a dropped jaw. And when the gray shifted back to me, his eyes had calmed from full-on rage down to a cold ferocity.

He'd held out a bloody hand, the knuckles mangled something awful. "Come on," he'd said, all quiet and tired. I'd hesitated for half a beat then had reached out and grabbed him, letting him lever me out of the cramped locker.

"T-t-thanks," I'd told him, all breathless and hating how I stuttered when I was scared or nervous.

"Derek's going to kill me," he'd muttered, almost sadly. I'd heard about Derek Hale. I was new in town, but Beacon Hills High School had a serious gossip problem, because some of the first things I'd heard were about Crazy Derek Hale and about the strange, wild boy who'd somehow survived in the woods for eight years.

For a moment, I'd wondered if AJ regretted helping me. If that would be the end of my first, tentative quest for a friend. But AJ must not have been too upset about the whole thing, because as we walked past Ryan, AJ kicked him in the ribs again. "Leave Robbie the fuck alone," he'd hissed, menacing and hard. God, I'd wanted to be like him so bad.

Of course, I didn't tell the vice principal about that last part.

After I finished my version of the event, the vice principal just sat back and stared at me thoughtfully. Then he looked out over the boys in the waiting area. I wondered if what he saw matched up with what I saw. "We don't condone violence here at Beacon Hills," he said finally. "I understand the circumstances are...unusual, but we do have a zero tolerance policy."

I swallowed hard, looking at my hands.

The vice principal sighed. "I've called your parents. You're not at fault, so you're free to go when they get here."

I rubbed my hands over the legs of my jeans, working up the courage to ask. "And AJ?" I squeaked out.

He sighed again, pinching the bridge of his nose. "AJ's behavior was unacceptable, however justified as it may have seemed. I've already spoken to his guardian regarding the consequences." He held up a hand when I started to protest. "This isn't his first offense, and I'm sure it won't be his last. Right now, you should focus on doing your best at school and catching up in your classes." The weary way he talked about AJ made me wonder just how often AJ got called to his office.

Movement in the entry of the waiting area drew both of our attention. My stepfather, Jim, walked in, looking tired and embarrassed. He was followed closely by a man that honestly didn't look too much older than me.

The man's eyes flicked around the room, carefully cataloging the injuries of Ryan's group before settling on AJ. Oh. This was Derek Hale, then. He was tall and stocky, but he moved with unexpected fluidity and grace for a man of his size. I could see where AJ got it from. A dark stubble covered his strong jaw, and wrinkles made his heavy brow dark with displeasure. I remembered very clearly after the fight when AJ had said, "Derek's going to kill me" in a sad, dull voice. Derek radiated stark disapproval as he crossed his arms and studied AJ, but he didn't seem as crazy as the rumors I'd heard made him out to be.

The vice principal stood and motioned for me to head out into the waiting room. He followed behind me closely. I hesitated in the doorway, seeing the damage of the fight up close.

AJ was sitting stiffly in the chair. He had some blood on his face, and one eye looked pretty bad. But his hands looked worse. They were kind of bloody and bruised and swollen.

My fault.

Guilt shot through me, and I slid my eyes away from AJ. By chance, I glanced back up at Derek, only to do a double take when I found he was watching me. His eyes were green and piercing, and even though I didn't know him, it felt like he was staring straight into my brain and measuring me up. I couldn't look away, but eventually his eyes went back to AJ, and I let out a breath I didn't even know I'd been holding.

The vice principal put a kind hand on my shoulder and steered me all the way out of his office. I avoided looking at Jim, because I knew he'd be disappointed, so I looked at Ryan's group instead.

They were all staring studiously at their feet, bloody noses, black eyes, split lips, and bruises abounding. It didn't look like AJ had done any heavy damage, which was probably for the best. Though, they definitely knew who won the fight.

Savage satisfaction shot through me at the thought. Then it was dampened when Derek Hale cleared his throat. "Car. Now," he said slowly, but he didn't sound mad, just disappointed. AJ stood slowly, not even looking at me as he walked towards the door. He just glowered at Ryan's group, as if daring them to do something.

AJ stopped, though, when he reached the doorway, hesitating much in the same way I had. "It's okay," he said quietly. "I don't mind." It was obviously directed at me, even if he wasn't making eye contact. All of a sudden, the painful ball in my stomach dissipated. He knew he was in trouble, but he didn't mind. Maybe we could still be friends.

And then he was gone, out the door in that crazy predatory glide that I wished I could move with. Derek uncrossed his arms, giving me and the other boys another once-over. He nodded what looked like an apology at the vice principal, who was still standing over my shoulder, and then he was gone, out the doorway in the same manner as AJ.

Jim shifted from foot-to-foot, smoothing back his hair in a nervous motion. "I'm very sorry," he said quietly, reaching out to shake the vice principal's hand. "It won't happen again."

As if he should be apologizing for me getting stuck in the locker, as if he could promise it wouldn't happen again. Anger and embarrassment flooded me, making my face hot. Why couldn't he just be like Derek and just accept that that fight had happened but not apologize for it?

I walked out to the car in stony silence. Jim had parked at the curb right outside of school and right behind Derek's car. AJ was sitting in the passenger side, face completely blank. I could tell Derek was ripping him a new one, but AJ didn't seem to be listening.

In a fit of boldness, I went over and knocked on his window. AJ rolled it down, stopping Derek mid-sentence, and then there were two sets of eyes, pinning me in place with matching heavy gazes. "Um, t-thanks," I told AJ, barely stuttering this time. "I know you didn't have to help me. S-so thanks."

AJ hissed, and at first I thought it was at me, but then I realized Derek had a hold of his left hand and was methodically straightening out AJ's fingers, probing the knuckles to check for damage. "S'okay," AJ mumbled with a wince. Then I fled, heat blowing up my face yet again.

Jim drove me home in silence. I could tell he wasn't happy, but it wasn't like he could chew me out for being bullied or locked inside a locker. I hadn't done anything wrong, and he was pretty mild-mannered by nature, so I knew he wouldn't be telling me to stand up for myself or fight back.

I still liked Jim, though, whatever his shortcomings. He loved my mom and treated her well. And although he didn't seem to have a clue about what to do with me, he was never mean or violent, which couldn't be said about my real father.

"I got bullied in high school, too," he said finally as we pulled into the driveway. He would have. He wasn't large or imposing, and he was extremely laid-back and quiet. A lot like me, actually. "You'll get through it. Now, not a word of this to your mother. You know how she'll react."

I guess that was his version of a pep-talk, because he shut the engine off and got out of the car. I sighed, grabbing my backpack and following him. I was grateful that we weren't going to involve Mom, though. She was stressed enough with her new job and finding a PTA group to join and other stuff. She'd freak if she knew about my day, no doubt about it.

By the time I finished my homework, my mom had gotten home from work and was humming cheerfully around the kitchen, making dinner because she was a chef and loved to experiment on Jim and I. Jim was still in his office, doing whatever he did for his accounting work. I didn't want to bug either of them, so I slipped my shoes on and went for a run.

To be honest, I sucked at running. I was getting better at keeping up with AJ, though. I was nowhere near his level, so I still practiced running at home, too. If I worked hard, someday I'd be fast enough and strong enough to keep Ryan and his friends at bay.

And AJ wasn't mad at me. Didn't want to ditch me the first chance possible. He'd still let me run with him and help me get stronger, and maybe he'd even teach me how to fight. Clearly he was good at fighting, since he'd taken on four big guys and still come out on top. And, maybe, just maybe somewhere along the way we'd become friends, and I wouldn't be all by myself in this crappy little town called Beacon Hills.

Here's to hoping, I thought sourly as my lungs burnt with effort and my muscles complained that they could be sitting in front of the TV all comfy-like. I pushed through it, cranking up my music and pounding down the sidewalk. Here's to hoping.


	2. Derek

Disclaimer: I do not own any Teen Wolf Characters. I did borrow some dialogue from an episode of Teen Wolf, though. They were some lines between Stiles and Malia.

A/N: Chapter two! I actually had this written a long time ago, but I was going to add it onto the end of the _Coyote Blue_. But I shan't, so now it's chapter two, 'cause I do what I want. Thanks for reviewing! Let me know if you have any suggestions or things you want to see happen!

* * *

 **DEREK**

I was going to kill AJ.

Just when I thought things were smoothing out, we hit another bump.

Another fight. Another call from the school. I was going to kill him.

All the books Melissa had given me pointed out that physical violence was not appropriate motivation when disciplining a child, but right now I was not opposed to marching down to the school and kicking AJ's ass.

I dropped my book onto the couch, taking a moment to calm down. Breathe in, breathe out.

The details were fuzzy, but the vice principal had said AJ had gotten into another fight and was going to be suspended for three days. I hadn't asked questions or prolonged the conversation in any way, because AJ would tell me about it later, and I'd had enough interactions with school authorities back when I'd been a student.

Peter. Peter had dealt with it the last time AJ had been in a big fight like this. In fact, I'd only found out about it when Sheriff Stilinski had asked about AJ. It hadn't seemed like too big of a deal to the Sheriff, but I'd known immediately that it was a miracle AJ hadn't seriously hurt anyone.

And then I had tried to pound it into the kid's head that he couldn't lose it like that. AJ was better now, though. I'd worked with him exhaustively to establish self control. Why he hadn't exercised it today was beyond me.

A car pulled up behind mine, and a man got out. He was tall and thin, and kind of reminded me of a mouse. Must be another parent. He had the same defeated slump to his shoulders that I felt.

When I walked into the school, I couldn't help but shudder slightly. It was weird coming back for something so mundane after everything that had happened here. Most of the memories I had of this place were not happy ones. Not after...Paige.

The mousey man went in before I did. Hesitating at the doorway outside the office waiting area, I fully prepared myself to chew AJ out. But, taking in the situation, all my words shrank away and disappeared.

AJ was sitting in a chair, stiff and angry. A few months ago, he would have been slumped low and making himself small, as if expecting to get hit. Today, he was sitting ramrod straight with fury rolling off him in waves. He was in basketball shorts, and it looked like his t-shirt had ripped in the fight. One eye was starting to swell shut, and there were traces of blood under his nose.

But what really caught my eye was his hands.

They were a mess. The knuckles of both were split and swollen, and his hands were loosely laying on his legs, fingers weirdly bent and curled. Almost like they were too swollen to clench normally.

The four boys, sitting as far away from him as possible, looked even worse. They were all big jocks. I knew the type. I had been one for a while. Just the type of guy that would rub AJ the wrong way.

I noted their injuries. Most of them were superficial. A couple bloody noses and black eyes. Bruises and scrapes. It didn't look like AJ had broken any bones or caused any major bleeding. But he'd thoroughly handed them their asses on a platter, that was for sure.

All four boys looked up as I entered, and all four slumped lower when they realized who I was here for.

AJ didn't even look at me. He just glowered at the boys. I wondered what they'd done to set him off.

Inside the vice principal's office was a fifth boy. He was scrawny and small and looked like he wanted to cry. I couldn't see all of him from the angle I was at, but he looked like he was trying to fold himself into the back of the chair. God, that had been AJ two months ago. As if on cue, the vice principal stood and ushered the fifth boy towards the door of his office.

I stared at the fifth boy as he hesitated in the doorway and looked at AJ, and I wondered if he was the reason AJ had picked a fight with four big jocks. Probably.

I didn't really know what to say, so I settled for, "Car. Now." After a second, AJ stood. I didn't miss the slow, careful way he did. He'd hurt something, maybe in his back or ribs. He walked towards the door, a defiant set to his jaw. Then he stopped. "It's okay," he said quietly. "I don't mind." It took me a second to realize he was talking to the scrawny kid standing in front of the vice principal. Then AJ kept walking.

I uncrossed my arms, unaware that I had even crossed them in the first place. I looked at the boys AJ had beat up, and then at the scrawny kid again, just to see what the fuss was about. I fought back a sigh, then nodded at the vice principal to let him know I'd talk to AJ. Then I followed AJ.

We walked out to the car without speaking. I watched as AJ's jaw worked furiously, clenching and unclenching. He was even shaking slightly as he walked. Something had him wound up pretty tightly.

Fact of life? Somebody or something usually managed to piss AJ off on a semi-daily basis. He got mad a lot. But, even though AJ was quick to anger, he was usually quick to release it.

This, however, was something else entirely. He was furious. I'd never seen him like this.

We climbed in the car, and AJ slammed his door with more force than necessary. I thought about smacking him upside the head but immediately decided that wouldn't help the situation.

Instead, I took two deep breaths and turned in my seat. "Another fight? What were you thinking?" I growled, keeping my voice mostly calm. Reaching over, I inspected AJ's mangled left hand. The knuckles were swollen beyond belief, probably broken. I probed them lightly, confirming they were broken before forcing his fingers straight. His hands would heal faster if the bones were at least in the correct position. "I—"

A knock at the window shut me down. AJ rolled the window down. The scrawny kid was standing there, looking like he'd bit into a lemon. "Um, t-thanks," he stuttered to AJ. "I know you didn't have to help me. S-so thanks."

AJ hissed at my ministrations and tried to pull his hand away, but I quelled his efforts with a no-nonsense stare. "S'okay," AJ mumbled through the pain. Then the kid fled, face going bright red.

AJ rolled the window up, and I sighed. "Explain," I told him, leaving no room for anything other than compliance.

Rage washed over him, and I had already readjusted the fingers of his right hand before he was calm enough to even formulate a sentence.

"They put Robbie in a locker," he spat, anger clipping his words to short bullets. "Then they locked him in."

Who the hell was Robbie? AJ had never mentioned him before.

"And Robbie is?" I demanded, finally releasing his hands. They were as good as they were going to get.

AJ crossed his arms over his chest, jaw working. "Robbie runs with me sometimes at lunch."

Now that was interesting. AJ never let people run with him. Not me, not anyone. I'd tried before, but he always managed to find some way to ditch me. He was fast enough to do it consistently, too, which pissed me off.

But he'd let Robbie run with him. Kid was full of mysteries.

I put my hands on the steering wheel to avoid reaching over and strangling AJ. "So those four idiots locked Robbie in a locker, and you what...decided break him out using your bare hands?" I drew up short, realizing that was exactly what AJ had done. His damaged hands were proof.

"They wouldn't unlock it," he muttered sullenly.

I rubbed a hand down my face. "Was this before or after you beat the sh—crap out of them?"

AJ jutted his chin out mutinously. "After, obviously."

"Obviously," I repeated, pinching the bridge of my nose. Then I thought about it. "The scrawny little guy...Robbie?"

AJ nodded.

I could just see it. Four big guys, picking on a little guy. AJ didn't like anyone or anything that preyed on the weak. He detested bullies. Our repeated encounters with the ghouls had made that painfully clear.

He would, of course, have felt obligated to intervene. And he would, of course, have wildly overcompensated for any perceived wrong against his...friend...or whatever he viewed Robbie as.

But I couldn't really fault him for it. When Stilinski had first dropped him off, AJ had pretty much been devoid of a moral compass. He'd had no real drive for anything past survival. I wasn't one to talk, though. My moral compass was skewed at best.

But AJ had hung out with Scott and Stiles. With Lydia and Kira. And things had started to change. He'd let people in, had started to care. Hell, I was pretty sure the kid was half in love with Lydia.

And now he'd stuck up for some kid who'd been stuffed in a locker. How could I punish him for that?

I looked over at him. He wasn't shaking with anger anymore, but it was still rolling off him in waves. Righteous anger, not something I saw from him very often. From Scott maybe, but not AJ.

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "Out," I said finally.

AJ scowled, eyes sliding over to me.

I raised my eyebrows. "Out," I repeated. "You need to cool off. So you can run home."

AJ watched me carefully, probably trying to decide if I was serious. Then he threw open the door, kicked his backpack with a foot, and slid angrily out of the car. "Home, AJ," I called, half in conclusion and half in warning that home was the only place he better be going. AJ flipped me off, but he started running in the direction of the loft.

I put my hands on the wheel and dropped my forehead onto them. I wasn't his father. I didn't know this parenting shit. Hell, I was probably a crappy role model. Until about a year ago, my first reaction was to beat the crap out of anything that pissed me off.

I sighed, lifting my head and starting the engine. What was I going to say to him? What _could_ I say that would actually make sense to the kid? AJ saw things in black and white, but this situation was squarely in a gray area.

Letting out a soft breath, I put the car into drive and pulled out of the parking lot. Whatever I was going to say, I needed to come up with it fast. I had until I got home to think of something useful.

In hindsight, having AJ run home had been a good idea.

When I walked in, he was collapsed on the floor, shirt soaked with sweat. He had an arm flung over his face, and he looked hot and tired. But the raw anger that had been rolling off him in waves was gone. Mission accomplished.

I crossed my arms and looked down at him, still undecided as to what I was going to do.

"I broke the 'no fighting' rule," AJ said softly from underneath his arm.

"Yeah," I confirmed, just as quietly.

"No Twinkies for a week," he said mournfully. The despair in his voice was almost comedic.

I schooled my face back into a serious look. Not that he could see it from under his arm. "Yeah," I repeated. Damn, this was going better than anticipated.

There was silence, then AJ shifted his arm and craned his neck to look at me. Thoughtful gray eyes sought out mine. "Did I do the right thing?" he asked. The uncertainty in his voice pained me. His grasp on morality was tenuous at best, but he tried his best, and now he was probably going to get in trouble for doing something good. Ish. Good-ish. His methods certainly left something to be desired.

I sat down on the couch with a sigh, planting my elbows on my knees as I leaned forward. "Sticking up for people who can't stick up for themselves...that's the right thing to do." Then I hesitated. "But when you go talk to the vice principal again, he's going to tell you that violence is never the right answer when dealing with bullies."

AJ frowned, forehead wrinkling. "But violence _is_ sometimes the right answer. Like when we killed all those ghouls."

I rubbed a hand over my jaw, fingers skimming over the stubble. "We killed them because they were dangerous. Dangerous to us, dangerous to other people."

AJ stared up at the ceiling, mulling that over. "Ryan's dangerous to Robbie. He shoves him around and locks him in lockers," he said a few seconds later.

I shook my head. "It's not the same," I told him patiently. "Ryan isn't going to kill Robbie."

AJ threw his hands in the air with an exasperated huff. "Well, Ryan still hurts him sometimes. Robbie told me so. Except, now Ryan and his friends will leave definitely Robbie alone, so that means violence _was_ the answer."

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "AJ, there are different rules at school. You can't beat up other students, no matter what the reason."

AJ scoffed, wrinkling his nose in disdain. "It's not my fault they were slow and stupid. If they were better fighters, I wouldn't have been able to beat them up." He was baiting me. He did that a lot, trying to get me to go down a rabbit trail instead of dealing with the problem at hand.

"You're missing the point," I said in a strained voice.

AJ chewed on the inside of his cheek for a second. Skepticism ran rampant over his face. "So I should have let Ryan hurt Robbie, because fighting is not okay at school?"

Damn it, damn it, damn it. The kid was too smart for his own good. "No, you shouldn't have let Ryan hurt Robbie. But yes, fighting is not okay at school."

More thoughtful silence. Then, "So...I should have waited until _after_ school to beat Ryan and his friends up?"

Oh God. He was serious. I dropped my face into my hands, biting back a groan.

"Next time you need to think of a different way to make Ryan leave Robbie alone. Fighting isn't allowed at school."

AJ snorted with satisfaction. "But see, there won't be a next time. That was the whole point of kicking their asses." I gave him a dark look, and some of his smugness faded. "Words not fists, AJ," he said grumpily, obviously parroting something someone had once told him.

I raised my eyebrows.

"Yeah, yeah. No fighting. Just threaten them with words or something," he grumbled.

I wanted to throw my hands up, and for a second, I wondered if my mother had ever felt like this with me. That thought sparked an acute pain in my chest, and I pushed it out of my head. "No more fighting," I said flatly. "I mean it, AJ."

Standing quickly, I went to the the kitchen. I was halfway through making a pot of spaghetti when there was a knock on the door.

Sticking my head out of the kitchen, I caught sight of AJ still lying on the floor. "Lydia's at the door, go open it."

"I can't," he said woodenly.

I stared down at him, narrowing my eyes. "Answer the door. You can't avoid her forever."

He gritted his teeth, straining his head to look at me. "No. I _can't_. I can't get up."

"What?" I crossed the threshold and came out to stand by the couch. The door opened as Lydia let herself in.

"I think I hurt something in my back," AJ hissed, studiously avoiding eye contact Lydia.

"That's because you're an idiot, AJ Hale," Lydia said frostily, stomping over. "And now you'll probably get a three day suspension. Plus you'll have to pay for ripping the door off that locker."

"So?" AJ crossed his arms over his chest and jutted his chin up at her. It, of course, looked ridiculous because he was lying flat on the floor in a sweaty, ripped shirt.

"So now you'll be suspended over a stupid fight. And you have no money." Lydia scowled down at him, hands on her hips.

"It wasn't stupid, they were hurting Robbie."

"And you hurt them. So how are you any different from them?"

AJ went stiff, face murderous. "I don't want to talk to you," he said scathingly. "You lied to me."

Lydia looked down at him furiously. "Well, too bad. Because you hurt your stupid back in a stupid fight, and you can't even move. So now you have to talk to me." Technically being so full of anger and adrenaline had most likely masked the pain of the injury, and running home had aggravated it to the point where the muscles had seized when given first the chance to cool down. But she still had a point, he wasn't going anywhere.

I glanced between them and then shrugged, heading back to the kitchen. Kid was on his own. At the stove top, I added a pinch of basil to the puttanesca sauce, stirring it in while keeping an eye on the two of them.

"I didn't lie to you," Lydia said. "I just never told you. There's a difference."

"That's stupid," AJ muttered scathingly.

Lydia wrapped her arms across her stomach, her anger gone. She just looked sorry. "Even smart people can do stupid things," she said quietly. "Because, at the time, they think they're doing the right thing. And I don't think you should hold it against them for the rest of their lives. Especially when they try apologizing hundreds of times through texts and voicemails."

"My phone is lost in the woods," AJ said from behind defensively crossed arms.

"Argh, what do you want from me? How can I fix this?" Lydia snapped.

It was AJ's turn to look sorry. He uncrossed his arms, studiously picking at the carpet with a free hand. "I'm not good at feelings," he offered quietly, after a long pause. "Some things I'm getting good at, but some things are like…"

"Math?" Lydia sighed.

AJ scowled. "I hate math."

"Do you hate me?" Lydia asked softly.

The tension left AJ, and he almost seemed to wilt. He stopped picking at the carpet, then after a beat he slowly shook his head. "I like you. I like you a lot."

Lydia gave him a small smile. "I can work with that," she said. "You can be mad and you can be hurt, but no more running away. Okay?"

"Okay," AJ said with sigh.

Lydia set her hands back on her hips, staring down at him for a moment. "Do you need help standing up?"

AJ stubbornly said nothing, obviously trying to get up himself. His heart rate picked up, and I could hear him groan under his breath. Then he went still. "Yes," he finally admitted.

"Idiot," Lydia said, leaning down to help him. With Lydia's help, AJ finally got himself semi-upright and moving towards his room. They had just crossed the doorway when she cleared her throat. "I like you, too."

AJ snorted. "Idiot," he told her.


	3. AJ

Disclaimer: Teen Wolf characters are not mine.

A/N: Sorry the chapter took so long to post. I had it written, but I was still deciding where I wanted the story to go. Which for me is weird, because I don't normally plan these things out... I just write as it comes to me. Awkward. Anyways, let me know what you think. Any writer on here will tell you that reviews are like crack!

* * *

 **AJ**

The tight, immobilizing burning in my back had faded by the time I snuck out of the loft to go running. It was early, maybe one in the morning. I knew Derek wouldn't be happy both because I'd left without telling him and because I was running in the woods at night. But I couldn't help it. The wild need was swirling inside, brought just below the surface of my skin by the fight and the blood and the adrenaline. I needed to run, and I'd already missed my regular outlet of energy yesterday with Robbie.

Derek had told me that the wild part of me—feral, he sometimes called it when I made him mad enough—was never going away, no matter how hard we worked. That was why we'd worked out a running schedule to keep that side in check. Though, I didn't mind the wild side. I know it worried Derek, but it was what had kept me alive all those years on my own. It was as much a part of me as the careful control that Derek continued to teach me.

And since he'd probably already wake up and be pissed about me being suspended, I figured I should at least get the burning under my skin out so we didn't end up fighting. Well, it wasn't really fighting so much as Derek being all disapproving with that calm, steady tone of his and asking me to explain why did what I did. And then looking disappointed or annoyed when I couldn't explain, because sometimes I didn't even know why, and I couldn't get my words out good when I was mad, so I usually just stood there and took it until I boiled over at some point and yelled something like, "Yeah? Well, fuck you." And then we'd both stare at each other all angry and quiet-like until one of us broke eye contact and stared at the floor. Usually me, because I didn't have an alpha stare and I was usually the one who had messed up. Not always, but most of the time.

And I wanted to avoid that when he woke up, which is why I was inching my way out of the loft as quietly as I could. Most people assume sneaking around is about being as silent as possible. But what they don't realize, in the moment, is that absence of sound is just as much as a warning as unusual sounds. Like in the woods, when all the birds and insects go quiet. And werewolves already have enhanced senses. So, the trick with Derek is always to make exactly the same type and amount of noise that I usually would when I sleep. I kept my breathing long and slow, my heart steady, and my footsteps silent.

The big problem was the loft door. It usually slid open quietly, but Derek would inevitably wake up for even that noise. I eased it open, centimeters at a time. It took almost ten minutes before the gap was big enough to squeeze through, and then I slid it shut, just as slow as before.

I didn't bother putting my shoes on yet, instead choosing to focus on making as little noise as possible going down the stairs. Coyotes, for whatever reason, can make their footsteps silent. Mine weren't silent as a human, but they were damn close. It must have worked, because Derek never called my name and I never heard the loft door open.

At the bottom of the stairs, I slipped my shoes on and shivered briefly. It was cold, a testament that winter was coming. I could see my breath in the air, but I'd be warm soon enough that it didn't matter. I took off jogging, letting my muscles warm up and adjust. My back didn't hurt, not like before, so that was a good sign.

I meandered through the streets, keeping to the dark and the shadows as much as possible. No one was awake, but it wasn't a good idea to just run around the streets where everyone could see me and call the cops. Still, my rambling path took me where it inevitably always took me, and I ended up outside Lydia's house yet again.

I always ended up at Lydia's house, even when it hurt so bad to look or talk to her, because I couldn't stop thinking about the ghouls breaking into Scott's house, and how many weird things Beacon Hills seemed to attract, and how Lydia didn't have claws or the ability to heal. So, I liked to stop by, just to make sure she was still breathing and functioning, because really, Lydia had the worst sense of self-preservation I'd ever encountered.

There was a single flower left in the flowerbed. It was tall and purple, wavering slightly in the cold breeze as it valiantly refused to die. It was strong and stubborn among the rest of the dead plants, but it would inevitably die soon, so I didn't feel bad when I pulled it from the bed. Taking a quick jog forward, I jumped for the roofline, pulling myself up and onto the porch overhang. Then I walked in silent steps to Lydia's window and left the flower outside. I figured she'd like it, since she like purple things. I didn't wake her up, just listened to her heart for a few seconds to make sure she was fine. Then I jumped back down and started running again.

Instead of taking the streets back to the loft, I swung wide and headed for the woods. I couldn't help it. When I reached the tree line, something deep inside of me unclenched, and I could suddenly breathe easier. The smells bloomed up around me, rushing past me as I picked up speed. They were all familiar, and my mind assessed and discarded them with barely even a thought.

The loft was only twenty minutes away, but I wasn't interested in going back yet. I skirted through the trees, finding a deer path that led deeper into the woods and following it. This was familiar territory, so I let my mind wander as my body fell into the familiar rhythm. After fifteen minutes or so, the wild side of me bubbled to the surface. I let it off the leash, just for a few moments, reveling in the rush of freedom as I surged forward faster than usual. The irresistible itch inside my spine snapped into sharp focus, and I let out a gasp as I skidded to a stop, pulling myself back from the edge of the mental cliff before I swan-dived off head first and shifted into a coyote.

I stopped and bent over, dropping my hands onto my knees as I caught my breath. Looking around, I realized that I hadn't been to this area of the woods before. But it didn't matter. It had the same smells and sounds as the rest of it, and it felt like my second home.

At a slower pace, I followed the scent of water to a small clearing. I flopped down in the grass, putting my hands behind my head. I could smell a couple of rabbits nearby, could hear their rapid heartbeats. A half-lazy memory flitted into my mind, and in it, I was chasing a rabbit on four legs, bloodlust and excitement burning through me as I hunted. I shook it off with a sharp twist of worry. Sometimes it was too easy for the wild side to sneak up on me, just like it had a minute ago when I ran. And the memories didn't help, either. Twinkies not rabbits, I scolded myself. Which reminded me that I wasn't allowed to have Twinkies for a week, because I'd broken the "no fighting" rule.

That thought soured my mood, so I shoved it down and looked up at the stars. No matter how many times I looked at the stars, I could never quite get over how beautiful they were. They were bright and uncountable and untouchable.

I had to move my hands out from behind my head, because they still hurt a little. I looked at them grumpily, scowling at the ugly mess. The swelling and the cuts were gone, but bone always took a bit longer to heal, and they still kind of hurt. I didn't regret it though. I knew, in my brain, that I should have been smarter about the whole thing. But in my chest, I knew I'd do it again in a heartbeat. I also knew, though, that the next time my vision went red, I might not be able to rein myself in, and someone could get seriously hurt. Which is what Derek was worried about and kept trying to make me understand. What he didn't get was that I understood the concept perfectly well, even if I couldn't muster up the worry myself.

What Derek also didn't get was that I knew, fairly accurately, how far from being feral I was at any given time. And whether I liked to admit it or not, I wasn't that far off these days. Derek had been working with me on my control. And the fact that he was a good teacher was the only reason I hadn't snapped yet. I wasn't truly great with my control, but I was good enough that he didn't realize just how close to snapping I could get throughout the day. And running wasn't really cutting it anymore. It took the edge off, sure. But I could feel it building, could feel the straight up _feral_ getting closer and closer to the surface.

I knew why, too. But explaining it all to Derek would mean admitting that I liked the darker side of what we did. Back when I was still learning control, we'd been dealing with the ghouls. I hadn't liked killing, by any measure, but I'd had many, many opportunities to fully unleash the feral side of myself. I liked the predatorial freedom, the hunt, the instincts singing through my blood. I'd liked the fight.

Now, everything was calm.

And I couldn't stand it. But I was pretty sure that was not a feeling I was supposed to have, a feeling that normal people didn't have. Like, I _should_ feel content that we weren't almost dying every other day, and I _should_ feel happy that we weren't engaging in fights to the death all the time. I knew I _should_ have those feelings. But that is not what I actually felt. So, I kept it to myself and tried to burn off as much of the crazy as I could by running.

I gazed at the stars for a bit longer, picking out the constellations that Derek had taught me. If I told him how I felt, I knew he would understand. But then he would worry about it, and he already worried way too much about me. And really, there was nothing more that he could do to help me. It was a just a matter of waiting to see if I was strong enough to control myself or not.

I blew out a breath and stood up, tired of going in the same mental circles that I had been going in ever since I'd shifted human again. The wild side had faded enough that I could start running again, but my muscles had cooled, so I started out slow.

Ducking under branches and hopping over fallen trunks, I slowly picked up pace, enjoying the dark woods. Somewhere above me an owl hooted, and there was rustle of brush as something took off running in the undergrowth to my left. I inhaled deeply, drawing in the scents of life.

Then something else tickled my nostrils. Fresh blood, human by the scent of it. I lifted my head, inhaling again as I tried to pinpoint the source. It was coming from the east, brought to me on the breeze. I headed that way, quickening my pace as I tried to figure out why there was blood in the woods. Maybe someone was hurt. It wasn't that farfetched. Backpackers had gotten lost and hurt all the time back when I'd lived in the hills. I'd always made every effort of steering clear of them instead of tracking them down, though.

I came to another clearing, already a few long strides into it before I slowed, recognizing that something wasn't quite right. The scent of blood was stronger than ever, but I still didn't see the source. By then it was too late, because my left foot hit something hard among the thick layer of dead, fallen leaves. I heard a loud metallic click, and then violently sharp pain shot up my leg.

I crashed to the ground, biting back a scream as my leg was accidentally yanked tight. There was metal around my leg, biting into my skin and maybe into my bone, and it was connected to a chain, staked to the ground. My left leg was on fire, and it hurt way worse than the times I'd been bitten by the ghouls.

I gasped and panted on the ground, shaking hard for a long moment before I eased myself into a sitting position and tried to look at my leg. It looked like metal jaws, and they were closed around my left leg, just above my ankle. I was wearing shorts and running shoes, so neither of them did anything to protect me. I reached down with shaking hands, barely touching the metal before it sent heavy shards of pain through my leg. With tears running down my face uncontrollably, I gripped the blood-slick metal and tried to pry it open.

For a second, the metal jaws seemed to give way a tiny bit. Then they ratcheted tighter with an audible click. I both heard and felt one of the bones in my leg snap, and I fell back against the ground, letting out an anguished howl even as a thick blanket of darkness rolled over my mind.

I don't know how long I was out of it, but by the time the world trickled back into focus, I could hear a smattering of low, hushed whispers. Spikes of agony throbbed up my leg with every beat of my heart, and I felt slightly dizzy without even opening my eyes. I could smell blood, my own and a lot of it. But it didn't seem as fresh as it could be, so maybe I'd healed enough to stop bleeding. Unable to help it, I let out a groan, trying not to move as best I could.

I heard footsteps, and I finally managed to get my eyes open. Two men approached, both wearing dark clothes and both with rifles slung over their shoulders on straps. They stopped a good three feet back of me. One was tall and thin, and he had a hard face with a thick mustache covering his upper lip. The other was shorter and more wiry. He pulled a wicked looking knife from his belt, thumbing along the blade edge with undisguised glee. "Well, lookee here, Trevor. We bagged us a kid. What do you think he is?" the one with the knife said, half crowing with excitement.

"Could just be a kid, Nath," Trevor replied, his mustache briefly flicking upwards as his lip twitched with disgust.

Nath seemed to seriously consider it. He wavered in and out of my vision for a second as I blinked furiously, trying to focus while fighting the blood loss and pain. Then he grinned. "Nah," he said decisively. "At this time of night? Besides, he came right to the blood. He's something. Might not be one of our cannibal psychos, but he's gotta be something."

Nath spat something out onto the ground, and my nostrils burned hot with the scent of tobacco. He leaned towards me, not stupid enough to get close. "What are you, boy?"

I didn't know who they were, but my instincts were screaming at me. They'd set a fucking metal trap in the middle of the woods. Whatever they wanted was not good, and the way they talked made it seem like they knew about people like me. Which meant the only thing I could do was lie and hope to God that they believed I was nothing more than an average human.

"I'm in high school, on the cross-country team," I lied, my words coming out slow and unintentionally slurred. "I can't sleep sometimes, so I go running out here all the time. I live not far from here. Please, just help me."

They stared down at me, blinking slow. "I don't know about this," Trevor said, rubbing his mustache with something akin to worry. "We don't know this area. He might be telling the truth."

I stared at them, unable to muster the energy to do more. I literally felt like my leg was going to break apart.

"Well," Nath grunted, spitting on the ground again. "There's one way we can find out. Little bit of each, I figure." He reached a few fingers into several pouches on his belt, drawing up different powder from each until he had a mixed palmful. My instincts screamed again, and I wanted to scuttle backwards, but the fucking thing on my leg was keeping me pain-drunk and stuck in place.

He flung the handful of powder at my bloody leg, and it fell through the air in a dusty cloud. I panicked then screamed as it coated the bloody mess of my leg and started a white hot fire inside my skin.

My claws came out and my eyes flashed blue against my will. I let out a howl, and they stutter-stepped backwards, their guns coming off their shoulders and settling squarely on me.

"Damn," Trevor said quietly. "You were right, Nath." They were quiet, almost thoughtful, for a second. Then Trevor winced, swearing softly again. "I hate killing kids."

I started to hyperventilate, unable to stop myself from trying to pull back. Pain ricocheted up my leg, stopping my attempts to escape as the chain rattled uselessly and didn't budge from where it was staked into the ground. Two guns clicked as they got ready to shoot me.

There was a furious roar behind me, not one I'd heard before. Blue eyes flashed on the other side of the clearing. Both men spun, forgetting about me as they searched for the new threat.

It wasn't Derek, that much I knew. His roar was deeper and usually more full of anger. I dropped onto my back, trying not to let the darkness swallow my vision again. There was gunfire, followed by a scream and a wet ripping sound. Blood splattered over me, but I barely noticed. More gunshots. They hurt my ears, but my whole body hurt now, so it wasn't anything outstanding. More screams. Then it was silent. I was still shaking and hyperventilating, and the world was starting to spin.

Sharp blue eyes appeared over me, then they faded into a softer, lighter blue. "Fucking animals," Peter growled, tossing aside one bloody rifle. I closed my eyes, relief flooding through me. His hand touched my face, and I twitched pathetically at the contact, trying to stop my shaking. Then his hand trailed lower to my leg, and I realized what he was going to do.

"No, don't," I begged, in the same slurred fashion, only a second before he yanked the metal jaws open with both hands. I screamed again as agony ripped through my leg, and then the world went black.


	4. Derek 2

Disclaimer: Teen Wolf characters are not mine.

A/N: Hey, there beautiful people! A new chapter! Woohoo! I also finished the next chapter at the same time, so expect a short time between posts. Boom-shaka-laka. Please review! I love to hear your thoughts about the chapter and about what you want to see in the coming chapters! As always, thanks for reading! -Wookie

* * *

 **DEREK**

 _The ghoul had tortured me for hours, creating clean slices across my chest and abdomen while it waited for AJ to follow. But the pain I had felt was nothing compared to the icy fear that gripped my chest when I watched AJ tackle the ghoul into the rushing water._

 _Peter was hovering at the edge of the sewer, standing at the exact spot where AJ had gone under. I was waiting, half collapsed in Braeden's arms, for any sign that AJ was going to resurface in the rush of filthy water. I waited for what felt like an eternity before the inkling that he wasn't ever going to pop back up to became too strong to ignore. Peter must have felt the same way, because barely another second had passed before he dove into the water._

 _They both resurfaced with a series of heavy splashes. Peter heaved AJ out of the water, clambering out next to him. AJ was limp and bloody and unmoving. "Come on, come on," Peter panted, but I couldn't hear AJ's heart or his breathing._

 _Peter slid AJ over his knees and slammed doubled up fists into his back to dislodge the water and compress his chest in the same move. One, two, three, four, five, and then AJ was gagging and spitting out alarming amounts of sewer water._

 _I let out a breath I didn't know I'd been holding. Braeden did too. AJ coughed and choked for a while before subsiding into full body shivers. After a few more seconds, he inched himself off Peter and slithered onto the ground on his back._

 _Around us, the others started to clear out. Braeden hefted my arm a little higher across her shoulders, giving both of us a better chance to support my weight. Peter reached out, brushing the long, soaked strands of hair out of AJ's eyes. I stared, silently pleading that AJ would open them. He did. Tired gray eyes looked up at Peter._

 _Then they morphed into his bright, furious blue and an anguished howl began to rise out of his chest, filling my mind with sharp, terrified pain._

I jerked upright with a gasp, jolting myself out of my weary doze. The last remnants of the cry still echoed in my brain, even as the sound disappeared. I listened hard for a second, recognizing that I was alone in the loft. Then I was out of bed, pulling on a pair of jeans and shoes and busting my ass down the stairs.

Something was wrong. Something was very wrong.

I sped along the road in the car, silently cursing AJ's inability to communicate. Did he tell me he was leaving the loft? No. Did he leave a note saying where he was going? No. Though most likely the nightmares had gotten to him again, and he'd gone running to clear his head.

There wasn't a repeat howl, so I blindly headed in the direction I'd heard the cry come from. Ten minutes later, my phone buzzed. I yanked it from my pocket, scowling when I saw who was calling.

"Now is not a good time, Peter," I said tightly, wondering what he could possibly want.

"I have AJ," he snapped, sounding as close to scared as I've ever heard him. "Get to Deaton's. Now." And then he was gone.

I jammed my foot down on the accelerator, hoping there were no cops between me and the clinic.

Peter's car was already at Deaton's when I pulled up. The back passenger side door was wide open, which was not a good sign. I hustled by, slamming it closed as I went and getting a good whiff of blood in return. AJ's blood, a lot of it.

"Damn it," I growled, shoving through the front door and past the propped-open gate at the reception desk.

"Back here," Deaton called, before I'd even cleared the reception area. I went to the back room and came to a stop when I saw them. The same icy panic I'd felt when seeing AJ, bloody and limp, after Peter had pulled him from the water came rushing back, freezing the air in my lungs.

AJ was lying unconscious on Deaton's exam table, wearing his running shorts and one shoe. There was blood splattered over his chest and head, but it was nothing compared to the blood pooling at the end of the table. It was coming from two gaping tears on either side of his left leg, just above the ankle. Blood seeped from the wounds slowly, adding to the pool and overflowing down onto the floor, past AJ's torn up shoe, and into the drain.

AJ's skin was pale, almost gray. And I could hear his heart beating slowly and laboriously, with an audible murmur that suggested he was dangerously low on blood.

As I watched, Deaton firmly grasped AJ's heel and the top of his foot before pulled his leg straight. There was a flash of white against the bloody gash on the outside of his leg, and then it was gone as the bone slid back into place under the torn skin.

I glanced over at Peter. He was standing on AJ's other side. His shirt was splattered with blood as well, but it wasn't AJ's by the smell of it. His hands were coated too, leaving bloody smears as he clenched the edge of the table.

"What happened?" I ground out, staring at the IV tubing that ran from the crease of Peter's elbow down into AJ's forearm. Peter was giving AJ blood just as quickly as AJ was bleeding out on the table. "Why isn't he healing?"

"A bear trap," Peter seethed, his voice dangerous and low. He was furious. "Two hunters set up a bear trap in the woods and baited it with human blood. AJ probably didn't even know what it was when he stepped in it. Then they threw wolfsbane, mixed with God knows what, onto his leg to see if he'd turn."

Rage blew through me, but I tamped it down. Deaton grabbed handfuls of gauze and wound packing material, haphazardly placing it over the two bloody gashes before motioning me forward. "Here, keep pressure on his leg," he said grimly. "I can't find the damaged blood vessel, so I'll have to try to identify the powders." I wrapped my hands around AJ's leg, tightening my grip.

Deaton backed up, stripping off his bloody gloves. He moved to the counter, grabbing a belt that was studded with pouches. "One of the hunters was wearing this," Deaton said with his back to us. "Obviously one of the powders is a variation of monkshood, given the lack of healing from AJ. But we can't just treat one powder unless we know what the others are."

He sorting through the pouches methodically, tapping out samples of each onto the counter before rummaging through the cupboards and drawers in an attempt to match the samples with containers of powder he already had stocked.

"Blue monkshood," he confirmed grimly. "And one is Narcissus powder. Clearly ghouls are a more widespread problem than we estimated." Another minute passed, and I was beginning to think Deaton was running out of his stock of powders to compare to. Eventually he fell still. "Another is Larkspur, but I'm afraid I'm not familiar with the rest."

Blood was still seeping through the packing, slow but relentless as it wet my fingers. "Then we need to burn the wolfsbane," I told him, "and put it in the wound."

Deaton turned around, looking grim. "Burning monkshood will create an antidote specific to itself. And the Narcissus and Larkspur are harmless to AJ. But the others...we don't know what affect they will have on him."

Peter shook his head. "It won't matter if he bleeds to death."

Deaton hesitated for a long second, and I stared him down. Finally he nodded, turning away and grabbing a small lighter from the drawer.

I released the pressure against AJ's leg, letting Deaton peel back to the bloody cloth. He cupped a handful of ashy powder, dumping it directly into the jagged gashes and then sealing it back in with new bandages. I paced, watching him work. "Now what?" I asked, when he finally stepped back from the table.

Deaton stripped off his bloody gloves, moving to the sink to wash his hands. I watched his back, watched as his shoulders slumped. It was easy to forget that it was only three in the morning. Deaton turned, drying his hands on a towel as he surveyed the mostly white bandages around AJ's lower leg. "Now that the bleeding has stopped, all we can do is wait," he said tiredly. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to get back to prepping for my actual scheduled surgeries today."

He moved out towards the reception desk, hesitating in the doorway. "When his heart rate rises to a normal rate and you can't hear the murmur anymore, then you can take the blood tubing out." The instructions were directed towards Peter, but Deaton didn't make eye contact or even look at him. Peter had that effect on people, chiefly people he'd tried to kill at one point or another.

Then Deaton gone, and I was left with Peter.

"He really is a little shrew of a man, isn't he?" Peter commented mildly, watching Deaton's receding back.

I said nothing, partially because Deaton had saved every werewolf in Beacon Hills at least once, and he'd saved AJ several times when we'd been dealing with the ghouls. And partially because I didn't know where I stood with Peter. I didn't trust him, didn't particularly even like him most days.

Yet here we were, standing over a boy that both of us would kill for.

I looked around, searching for the metal folding chair that Deaton usually had tucked into some corner or another. Snagging it from the far corner, I flipped down the seat and straddled it. "Did you get any information from the hunters?"

Peter tilted his head, giving me a sarcastic look. He swept a hand down at his bloody, torn shirt. "I didn't really stop to chat while they tried to kill AJ." I gave him an unamused look. "And they shot me," he said indignantly, pointing to a bloody furrow in his shirt. "Right here."

I shrugged. "You didn't think to stop and maybe find out who they were or what they were doing here?"

This time he gave me a dull look. "They're hunters. They're here to kill things, including us. What more do we need to know?"

I sighed, wondering if maybe AJ was more like Peter than I originally thought. "How many of them are there? What are they hunting? Why are they coming to Beacon Hills now—"

"Right," Peter said, cutting me off with a raised hand. "Next time when they start shooting at me, I'll kindly ask them their business _before_ I separate their limbs from their bodies."

We fell silent for a minute, both of us watching AJ's chest rise and fall slowly. "What were you even doing in the woods in the first place?" I asked tiredly.

Peter's face went calculatingly blank, but he was saved from answering when AJ's eyes opened. AJ stared up at the ceiling for a few seconds, blinking slowly. "Ouch," he said quietly, body stiff and still.

AJ turned his head, automatically searching for me. Some of the tension leaked out of his posture when he finally focused in on me. I stood, moving closer and starting to reach for his arm, because I knew the first thing he would try to do. AJ's right hand moved unconsciously to his left forearm, already reaching to pull the IV tubing out. I caught his wrist before he got that far. "Leave it," I told him. He looked up at me confused and then back to the IV, following it to the source.

The tension came right back when he laid eyes on Peter. "You," AJ said, his voice suddenly breathy and weak.

"Me," Peter replied, not breaking eye contact.

"You," AJ repeated, almost numbly this time. His heart was starting to pound, and he tugged at the wrist that I held. "Let go of me," he mumbled, not taking his eyes off Peter.

"No," I told him, tightening my grip enough to hurt. "Calm down. You're still healing."

"You're not going to freak out, turn into a coyote, and live in the woods again, are you? Because we really need to get past that," Peter said, lips twitching into the start of a smirk.

AJ sat bolt upright, lips peeled back in a snarl. "You're not helping," I snapped at Peter as I grabbed the back of AJ's neck with my free hand, giving him a small shake. "Calm down," I told him. "Think. What do you remember?"

AJ stilled, and I relaxed my grip on him. He stared down at his left leg and the blood that was pooled on the table. "Metal," he said, faltering. "Metal biting my leg. And two men. They were looking for cannibals and were going to kill me, because the powder burned my leg and made me turn. I tried not to, but I couldn't help it." He shuddered before peeking over at Peter, head still low. "And you were there, at the end."

"You called. So I came," Peter said with a shrug. But he wasn't joking or ribbing AJ on, not anymore. AJ and I stared at him. "Well," Peter announced, clearing his throat. "You obviously don't need this anymore." He stripped the IV out of his arm, tossing the tubing onto the table. Then he eyed the blood on the table and floor. "And I'm not cleaning that up, so my work here is done."

Peter walked towards the doorway. "Oh, and don't expect me to come running the next time you're about to die. Last time you ruined my favorite shoes. This time it was my favorite shirt," he said, tossing the words carelessly over his shoulder. But his attempt at lying was as careless as his tone, and we both watched him go wordlessly.

When Peter was gone, I turned back to AJ, giving him a sharp shake. "What were you thinking?" I growled.

He scowled at me, shoving my hands away. It was more a testament to his willpower than his actual strength, because I could see his hands shaking before he crossed his arms over his chest.

"I went running. I had to get the wild out," he muttered, jutting his chin out in wordless rebellion. "And I smelled fresh blood." My stomach twisted sharply at the thought of him tracking the scent of fresh blood, but AJ continued, allaying my worst fears. "I thought someone might be hurt. So I followed it."

"Why didn't you tell me you were going running?" I growled, noticing that he had intentionally skated past that issue.

He looked down with his patented guilty look. "You were mad about the fight. You would have said no," he muttered finally and with much reluctance after I let the silence grow past his comfort limit.

He was right. I would have said no out of sheer principle. "Maybe I would have gone with you," I told him.

More guilt. He obviously hadn't considered that one. I was also pissed that I hadn't heard him leave. I was usually pretty good about that, but AJ could be a silent little shit when he wanted to be.

I checked his leg, making sure the bleeding had stopped before poking and prodding him out towards the car. He limped quite drastically, and I remembered the way his bone had jutted out of the torn skin of his leg. It would probably be a little while before he was comfortably walking or running again. He got into the car and slumped low in the seat.

I went back and cleaned up the blood all over the table and floor. It was uncomfortable, scrubbing up blood that shouldn't have been leaking out of AJ in the first place. I paused at the IV tubing. I'd never even considered a situation that a werewolf would be in bad enough shape to need blood from someone else. But clearly AJ would have died without it.

Sweeping the tubing off the table and into the trash, I pushed that thought far away. AJ was fine. Or he would be soon enough. Washing my hands, I looked around the room for anything I'd missed. It was clean, so I left.

It wasn't until I pulled up to the loft that I realized I'd been chewing AJ out for the better part of the drive home. I cut myself off abruptly, staring at him and knowing that neither of us needed that right now.

AJ was tight-lipped and uncommunicative, as usual, which somehow ticked me off even more. But when I fell silent, after a pause, he rolled his eyes over to me. "Sorry," he said hesitantly, almost to quietly to hear. "I didn't mean to scare you."

I bristled, ready to bite back. But then I stopped, realizing he was right. My anger wasn't really anger. It was fear. Somewhere along the line, I'd become attached to this scrappy little idiot. I was vulnerable, had something to lose again, and I didn't like that feeling.

I sighed, also realizing this was the first time he'd ever apologized to me. "Get out of the car," I grunted. "You're grounded until you're thirty." But I didn't mean it, and he probably knew that.

AJ picked his way slowly and carefully up the stairs. I trailed him, watching his muscles start to shake with exertion as he climbed. I let him struggle, though. Natural consequences, according to the books Melissa McCall had given me.

He made it to his room, passing out face down on the bed. I stared at his back, watching it rise and fall with each breath. Then I confiscated his remaining shoe, thinking he probably couldn't go running if he didn't have shoes.

The feeling came back as I watched him, tight and warm inside my chest. I scowled, turning away. I didn't need that right now. I needed to focus.

Hunters were in Beacon Hills. AJ had said they were looking for cannibals, which narrowed their potential targets down quite a bit. I headed up the stairs in search of one of the big lore books that Peter kept stashed in the loft. Dropping onto the couch, I flipped to the table of contents.

Cannibals. Jesus. It only felt like a short month since we'd taken care of the ghouls. Now cannibals. Beacon Hills seriously had a problem.


	5. Robbie 2

Disclaimer: Teen Wolf characters are not mine.

A/N: As promised, another chapter. Let me know what you think.

* * *

 **ROBBIE**

AJ wasn't at school. The guilt kind of ate at me as I sat in my classes. I mean, AJ didn't really even like school. He'd told me that much. But he was supposed to be here, and he wasn't, and it was my fault.

But, on the plus side, Ryan and his friends were also suspended. No one bothered me. Though, no one really looked at me, either. Word traveled fast around the school. The most I got was pitying looks or just being ignored. This fresh-start-new-school thing sucked.

I didn't get to go running with AJ, either. After school, I headed home, staring morosely out the window at the street below as the minutes ticked by and my homework remained untouched before me.

It wasn't until around four that I jerked out of my reverie. AJ ran by on the sidewalk below. He wasn't wearing any shoes, for some reason. He also didn't seem to be moving very fast, with a little bit of a limp that slowed him down. But there he was, wearing a blue t-shirt and shorts, jogging past my house.

I bolted out of my chair, shucking off my jeans in search of shorts. Then I hopped from foot to foot, trying to get my running shoes on.

Blasting down the stairs, I yelled a quick explanation to Jim, who was working quietly in his office. He didn't look up from his spreadsheet, but he absently waved a hand in acknowledgement.

I hustled outside to the sidewalk, running after AJ. He was way farther down than I'd thought he could get in the short time it had taken me to get changed and get downstairs. But it didn't matter, I was sure that I'd catch up to him eventually.

Forty minutes later, I knew what a joke that was. I had literally followed AJ all over town, falling more and more behind as time went on. AJ was a maniac, never stopping for breaks or slowing his pace. He wasn't even wearing shoes, for Christ's sake.

I had almost lost him twice, losing my line of sight only to catch a glimpse of his shirt around the corner. And once, I'd actually lost him for real, slowing to a walk and gasping for breath after he'd somehow disappeared. I'd walked from one block to another, turning this way and that before randomly catching sight of him four blocks south. "Oh my God," I'd huffed, starting back up to a shambling run.

His limp had grown more pronounced as the run stretched on, and I was sixty-seven percent sure that was the only reason I was even able to keep up with him. Then he'd stopped at a house. I'd watched as he took a running start, pulled himself onto the roof, and walked over to the window.

Which is where I was now: bent over, pulling in breaths, and trying not to die. I thought I'd get at least a minute to breath, trying my best to use AJ's break to catch up. But it didn't work. Not thirty seconds later, AJ jumped off the roof, stumbled his landing in the grass, and took off down the sidewalk.

Before, he'd been running in fairly straight lines. But now he was zig-zagging across the street in a random fashion. I plodded on unendingly, trying not to die as he weaved his way through town.

Eventually, his limp became more and more pronounced. He slowed to a walk, heading farther and farther out of town. Thankfully, we were heading back in the general direction of my house, so that was nice at least.

I checked my phone. It was almost five. We'd been out here running for an hour and I hated it. But it was good. At this point, my body hurt, but I'd already crossed the threshold of pain to a point where my body just accepted that I had to keep running. So I did.

We stopped on the edge of town. Well, AJ stopped. I kept going, actually getting the closest I'd been to him the entire run. I watched as he hesitated, heading down a gravel driveway towards a single house set far back on a dirty old lot. It looked rundown and abandoned, and I wondered why AJ was even here.

There was a blue Prius parked about fifty feet away from the gravel driveway entrance. I peeked in it as I trotted by, but it was empty. I barely made it to the driveway in time to see AJ circle around back of the house. Following his dusty footprints, I realized that there were another pair of prints in the dust as well. They were smaller than AJ's, smaller than mine, even.

I followed AJ back, so intent on sneaking that I almost tripped over the storm cellar doors, connected to the side of the house. I skirted around them, peeking around the corner of the house. There was a small porch on the back, constructed entirely out of wood and falling apart. On it was a girl. It took me a few seconds, because I was only seeing the side of her, but then it hit me. It was Lydia. She'd been there in the locker room, telling AJ to stay calm before the fight. Thinking back at the Prius, I wondered if it was her car.

A sick feeling swamped over me, not from all the running, but from somewhere deep inside. Something was wrong about this place. I looked around. We seemed to be alone, and AJ was nowhere to be seen.

"Lydia?" I called, half whispering. She didn't move, ceaselessly staring inside the house through the broken door. I snuck closer, whispering her name again. Still nothing. No acknowledgement that she'd heard me. I eased up the broken stairs until I was right beside her, shaking her shoulder. "Lydia," I hissed, searching her face for some sign of recognition.

"Can you hear it?" she whispered, not specifically addressing me in particular. "Can you hear the chewing?" Her eyes remained glazed, staring blankly into the house. I turned, wondering what could be so captivating.

The house was dark and dilapidated, with a few remnants of a shattered door still hanging haphazardly on rusty hinges. Inside, torn wallpaper was coming off the walls in jagged strips, exposing old fashioned boards. The flooring was shoddy at best, missing in places and rotten in others. But the ceiling and windows were busted open in enough places that the last of the sunlight was peeking through and revealing what I hoped was a badly timed halloween prank.

There was a body in the main hallway. Or what was left of a body. "Holy shit," I yelped, eyes wide. I took a stumbling step backward on the broken porch and fell on my butt with a thump of shifting boards. That couldn't be a real body.

Scrambling to my feet, I took one step closer, leaning forward. I saw a bloody mess of skin and bone in what used to be the abdomen, with the insides long gone. A horrible stench rolled into my nose, convincing me that it was very, very real.

I staggered back down the porch steps, trying very hard not to puke into the dirt. My stomach curled, but I held it in.

On the side of the house, the storm cellar doors banged open. I jumped at the noise, backing away from the corner of the house as my heart started pounding. I dearly hoped it was AJ, coming around the corner.

It wasn't.

A man came the corner. He had blood on his shirt and hands, and he drew up short when he saw me. "Hello there," he said cheerfully, as if the blood all over him was nothing to worry about. "I thought heard someone up here." His eyes flickered up towards Lydia, and a weird look came over his face. "Two someones. What a treat."

He smiled again, moving towards me. My body froze, all the while my mind screaming _shit, shit, shit_.

The man's eyes flashed white, losing all the color and structure of a human eyes. Inside his mouth, the man's teeth elongated to sharp, spiked points. "What the f—" I squeaked, finally able to skitter backwards. My heel hit an uneven patch of ground, and I fell backwards as he moved in close. He laughed, taking another step forward and reaching down to grab me.

Back on the porch, the boards over the left window shattered outwards and AJ came flying through the hole. He cleared the porch in his jump, landing in the dirt in a crouch. AJ had barely even touched down when he launched himself over at the man, tackling him from the side. The man had been so close to grabbing me that I could feel the slight touch of his fingers on my shirt as AJ knocked him aside.

They landed in a puff of dirt, writhing and fighting on the ground. AJ smashed an elbow into the man's face, and the man retaliated by headbutting AJ in the jaw. They rolled some more, sharp snarls emphasized by heavy blows. Then all of a sudden the man was on top. AJ swiped at his face with a hand, drawing blood, and he smashed AJ's head into a rock, causing AJ to go limp. Then the man slithered backwards, heading farther down the top of AJ until his face was even with AJ's stomach.

I flashed back to the body in the house, with its stomach shredded to pieces and its internal organs gone. Horror burst inside me as the man buried his mess of pointed teeth in AJ's side.

At first, nothing happened. Then AJ let out a sharp cry of pain, jerking back into action as he slammed his knee up and into the man's chest. The man fell to the side with the force of the blow, and AJ twisted to the right, scissoring upright onto his knees. He reached out lightening fast and twisted the man's head too far around in one direction, snapping his neck with an audible crack.

The man's body stayed upright for a second before it toppled sideways. Aj remained where he was, still kneeling in the dirt as he breathed hard. Except, he didn't really look like AJ.

His brow was heavier and the bridge of his nose thicker, illuminated on both sides by bright blue glowing eyes. His lips were pulled back in a silent snarl, canines stretching into actual fangs. And his hands had bloody claws tipping each finger.

I stared at him, aghast. "Who are you?"

His eyes went dim, fading back to gray. His nose thinned out, teeth receding. He didn't look at me as he dabbed normal fingers at his side, swearing quietly at the bloody tear in his shirt. "I'm AJ," he said in mild annoyance.

"I know your freaking name!" I spluttered, scrambling to my feet. "I mean, _what_ are you? You, you, you just killed a man!" I huffed, waving my hands around in exasperation and helplessness.

"Well, he wasn't a very nice. Or a man." AJ said with scowl, poking a finger through the bloody hole in his shirt and wiggling it. "He was going to eat you. And now he's not. So you're welcome."

Going to eat me. I was losing my mind. Monsters were real, and there was one standing right in front of me, dusting himself off and grumbling about ruining another blue shirt after casually having killed a completely different monster. "You t-t-turned into a th-thing and killed him!"

"Werecoyote," AJ supplied helpfully. He stopped, frowning thoughtfully as he finally looked at me. "But you're not supposed to know that." Gray eyes pinned me in place as they narrowed slightly.

My eyes widened as a horrible thought occurred to me. "Are you going to kill me now?" I asked woodenly. "To protect your secret?"

AJ scratched his head, looking thoughtful again. "No," he said decisively, after a little pause. "Derek says I am not supposed to kill or maim friends." Then his face went a little pale. "Oh crap, Derek's going to kill me."

It was my turn to stare at him. "Why?" I asked, unable to say anything past that after watching the quick succession of him considering and then discarding the idea of killing me.

"I'm grounded until I'm thirty," he said mournfully. "I don't even know what that means. But it does _not_ mean leave the loft to go running by myself while Derek is at work and ruin another shirt." Then he turned away, heading back towards Lydia.

She seemed to snap out of her trance before he even reached her, spinning slowly in place with her face suddenly full of confusion. "What happened? How did I get here?" she demanded, fear causing her voice to shake.

"Dunno," AJ said thoughtfully, offering her a hand off the porch. She took it, carefully picking her way down the rotten steps in her high heels.

"I was doing homework in my room. And then I heard this awful chewing noise. And now I'm here," Lydia said in a faint whisper, clinging to AJ's arm even though she had cleared the steps. She glanced at the body in the dirt and completely snapped out of her dazed manner.

"Seriously? You couldn't go six months without finding another monster to kill?" Her voice was full of exasperation, but I could see the fear in her eyes. I could see how tightly her hands were gripping AJ. And somehow she knew the man on the ground was a monster, even though she hadn't seen his eyes or teeth.

"He was going to eat Robbie," AJ protested, "what was I supposed to do? And technically, you're the one who found him. I was just following you, because you weren't in your room and you smelled scared."

Lydia cast a withering glance over at me, as if this was all my fault somehow, before sizing up AJ. "And you ruined your shirt," she grumbled, fingers ghosting over AJ's side but not quite touching the bloody patch.

AJ crossed his arms. "I know," he grumbled. "My last blue shirt. Why can't it be the red shirt? But no, always the blue."

Lydia sighed, looking back between the house and the body. "Come on, let's clean this up before anyone sees us. Then you can change at my place." And then she was off, marching towards the Prius in her high heels and skirt, leaving AJ and I to stare after her in bewilderment.

AJ scowled at the body, grabbing an arm and dragging it back towards the house. Up the porch and into the hallway it went. Lydia came back, a roadside flare and a can of hairspray in her hands.

AJ tossed some small pieces of brittle wood inside the doorway and Lydia sprayed the hairspray over the burning flare, shooting a geyser of flame into the house. The wallpaper caught fire first, followed by the dry wood. AJ took off his shirt, sweeping it in large arcs across the dirt after us to erase the footprints as we fled to the car.

Then we were gone, with Lydia driving us away as I stared out the back window and wondered how many times it took to kill someone and burn the body before it became a sixty second decision and follow-through.

"Are you okay?" AJ asked Lydia quietly.

Her hands tightened on the steering wheel until her knuckles were white. "Yes," she said softly, after a long pause. "I just...I thought we'd have more time...before bad things started happening again."

Again. Because stuff like this had happened before? What the hell kind of place was Beacon Hills?

AJ said nothing, staring out the window instead. Then he looked into the rearview mirror at me. "Are you okay?"

I snorted, holding back a half-hysterical laugh. "My only friend t-t-turned into a werecoyote and killed a monster. And th-then we s-s-set a house of fire. And I r-ran five miles today. I am not okay."

Lydia pursed her lips, making a noise of casual dismissal. "Welcome to Beacon Hills. Congratulations on still being alive."

AJ still stared at me in the mirror. "Why were you even there?" He looked annoyed and a little bit worried.

I shrugged, trying to play it cool. "I saw you run by my house, and I just wanted to run with you."

AJ didn't say anything, but he looked down at his hands, almost guiltily. And that was the end of that, because no one said anything for the rest of the trip.

By the time Lydia stopped the car, the smoke from the fire was big and black enough to see from my house, even as it started to get dark. I swallowed convulsively with my hand on the door handle. My only friend was a monster, and we were all going to go to jail for murder. I was sure of it. This day sucked.

I climbed out, shuddering as I closed the door. AJ rolled down the window. "See you tomorrow," he called as Lydia pulled out from the curb. I tried to decide if that was a threat or not as I followed the walkway up to the door.

My mom looked shocked to see me so sweaty and dirty when I came in. Concern colored her face as she dried her hands off on a towel. "Honey, I love that you have started this whole running thing with your new friend, but I think you're taking it a little too far," she said.

"You have no idea," I murmured, heading up the stairs to shower.

"Dinner is almost ready," she called up after me. "I'm trying out this new recipe for orange pistachio-stuffed grilled scallops. I think it will be amazing, but you'll have to let me know what you think."

"Sounds great," I called back down, wondering what I was supposed to do with a werecoyote friend who killed monsters in his day-to-day life. Not to mention his crazy girlfriend who apparently heard noises that didn't exist and had the worst case of daytime sleepwalking I'd ever seen.

I took a shower. Ate dinner. Acted like school was going great and nothing was wrong. But that night I couldn't sleep. I kept seeing the dead body, and the man with his eyes and teeth. And AJ, reaching over incredibly fast to snap his neck.

But AJ had saved me from the man, and he'd been nice to me at school. He was literally my only friend. He'd already said he wouldn't maim or kill me, whatever that meant. And he'd gotten into a fight because Ryan and his friends were bullying me. So really, how bad could AJ be? I mean, he'd apparently lived in the woods for eight years by himself as a child. So really, I'd say he was adjusting fairly well.

Rolling onto my stomach, I pulled out my phone and opened the internet. If monsters were real, I wanted to know everything I could about them. I wasn't super athletic or strong, but I was one hell of a researcher. The internet was my domain.

By the time I fell asleep, my brain was so full of monsters and ancient stories that it's a wonder I didn't have nightmares the rest of the night.


End file.
